ScandalWithaPrince

by Nicole Burnham

  Then there was Stefano. Judging from everything she’d seen these last few weekends, he’d be a good husband—responsible, honest, dependable—and he’d do anything for Anna. He’d promised as much and she believed him.

  But what about her? She needed more than Stefano’s protection, more than job security. More than a marriage of convenience. Or did she? It would be so, so easy.

  She breathed deeply, inhaling the warm salt air as if it had the ability to clarify her mind. No, she decided. Nothing easy ever paid off. She couldn’t allow herself to succumb, no matter the temptation. In the long run, a marriage where the feelings were unbalanced wouldn’t work. At least, that’s what her brain said. For her heart, it was becoming an entirely different matter. More and more, she wondered if, maybe, he might love her in return. There were times when she’d catch a glimmer in his eye when he looked at her, a glimmer that made her believe he truly wanted her for her, not for Anna or out of a misguided sense of duty.

  Then again, it might be wishful thinking…or simply convincing flirtation on his part. Never once had he said he loved her. He’d said they could make it work. He’d said it’d be the right thing to do. And what happened when Anna graduated high school and left for college? Would Stefano still feel he made the right decision in asking Megan to marry him?

  If he was ever going to raise the topic again, it’d be now, when they were alone. If he didn’t, well, she’d tell herself it was for the best.

  “Have you considered Sarcaccia?” He surprised her again by putting his hand over hers, then running his strong fingers along her leaner ones to trace her knuckles. “I don’t wish to pressure you—I promised I wouldn’t—but my offer still stands. I meant it when I asked you to marry me.”

  The man could truly read her mind.

  Though she couldn’t say yes, she couldn’t bring herself to say no, either. She kept her face turned toward the sand and waves, unwilling to let him read the conflicting emotion in her eyes. “I promised to think about it. I’m still thinking.”

  It wasn’t the answer she wanted to give, but it was as honest as she could be.

  “That’s understandable.” His hand stilled, but remained on hers. After a moment, he said, “I had a meeting earlier this week with the team doing the hiring for the new convention center. They’ve reached the point where they need a long-term director and have compiled a shortlist of possible candidates. They wanted to know if I was familiar with any of the names before they make contact. You were at the top of their list.”

  She turned in surprise. “Me? How?”

  He shrugged. “You’re rather good at what you do. I imagine someone recommended you.”

  She felt her smile falter.

  “No, it wasn’t me,” he said. “My involvement with the conference center is primarily focused on the transportation improvements it requires. On the other hand, the committee knows I’m likely to have met some of the potential candidates in my travels. It makes sense for them to consult me before they begin the interview process, just as they’d consult anyone else who could give them insight into the candidates.”

  She wanted to believe him. But was this another situation where—when things weren’t going his way—he’d taken action to control the situation? If so, it wasn’t a move to share her life, but to orchestrate it.

  “You don’t believe me,” he said.

  “It’s just…I can’t fathom how they’d have gotten my name. It’s not as if I’m local. And I certainly haven’t dealt with anyone in Sarcaccia. I don’t know anyone in the hotel or convention business there. Perhaps you mentioned me in passing or said something about your visit to the Grandspire?”

  “Of course I told them about the Grandspire.” He pulled his hand from hers and twisted on the bench to face her. His green eyes, usually so crystal clear, appeared darker and more serious behind his amber frames, though perhaps it was her imagination. “I’ve also told them about nearly two dozen other hotels and conference centers I’ve visited over the last few years. The developers want to take the best ideas from around the world and incorporate them into the new facility. I’ve done the same thing as I’ve studied transportation systems so we can make economically sensible upgrades to ours. But given the history you and I share, I did not mention you specifically. And they certainly don’t know I’m with you this weekend.”

  Her heartbeat jumped at the phrase I’m with you this weekend. Only Stefano could make it sound so romantic and forbidden, even when nothing romantic had taken place.

  “In any event,” he continued, “I wanted you to be aware that you’ll be receiving a call from the committee in the near future. I didn’t want you to be caught off guard, given that my proposal is still on the table.”

  Hope welled inside her as he studied her face, waiting for her response. She wanted so badly to kiss those firm, gorgeous lips, to see his eyelids drift closed and feel his mouth against hers, hot with need. To hear him say he loved her. Not that they shared a connection or even that she was the best sex of his life. Not that they could make it work. Not that he was getting her a job. A job was something she could handle herself. A relationship required two people.

  Only three words. They were all she needed to hear to tip her decision and pull her out of limbo. But she only wanted to hear them if he meant them with all his heart and soul.

  Her heart felt as if it would beat out of her throat as he shifted closer, resting his arm on the bench behind her.

  “You’re still worried about the practicalities aside from your career, aren’t you?” His brow creased into a frown. “Like how you might adjust to living in the palace? That’s what’s holding you back.”

  The bubble of hope inside her deflated. “Of course that’s a concern. But” —she wracked her brain for a way to explain that he was missing the point without sounding needy— “there’s a lot more to a successful marriage than…than practicalities.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Then…wait a minute,” she paused as a slow smile spread across his face. “What’s with the grin? You look like a pool shark who’s about to run the table.”

  “Because this means you have been considering my proposal. You haven’t said anything in nearly two months, so I wasn’t sure.”

  “It’s the first time we’ve been alone in nearly two months,” she pointed out. “And you haven’t said anything, either.”

  “I see.” His arm moved from the bench to her shoulder, his fingers grazing the tie to her sundress before pausing at the spot where she’d knotted it behind her neck. “I thought it best to give you space. But perhaps less space between us is in order if I wish to persuade you.” He angled his head to look pointedly at the lean cotton strap. “Anyone told you that you look gorgeous in that dress?”

  “You’re teasing.”

  “This” —he leaned in so his lips grazed her cheekbone— “is no tease.”

  Her breath stilled as she felt him smile against her skin.

  “You sure?” she managed. “Because I swear you’re about to laugh at me.”

  “I’m quite sure.” The brim of his baseball cap tipped at an angle that partially hid their faces from the beach, adding to the thrill of the forbidden. She willed herself to keep her wits about her, but when his mouth found hers, the desire she’d kept so carefully bottled up since the weekend they’d made love overwhelmed her. All she could think of was his kiss, his warmth, his fingers curling into the hair at the back of her head. The unfamiliar scratch of his stubble against her face along with the sweet familiarity of his tongue coaxing her to invite him in.

  But was there love in his kiss? Her overloaded mind couldn’t tell. Though on one level she knew she should pull back, desire drove her fingers to cross the short distance to his knees, gliding over the soft fabric to explore the corded muscles of his thighs.

  “What else can I do to convince you?” he whispered before angling his mouth to deepen the kiss.

  He tasted like pure bl
iss. Sunshine. Heat. The promise of utterly divine sex.

  The barest hint of his cologne—or was it his soap?—tickled her senses, along with the scent that only belonged to him, the scent that had lingered in her pillowcase the night after they’d made love in her bed.

  She could get lost in him. The frightening part was that the idea of surrender didn’t frighten her as much as it should.

  She eased away, though her fingertips remained on his shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”

  “Your suite isn’t far.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be—”

  In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a man moving along the beach. Instinct made her turn and look.

  He held a long-lens camera to his eye. It pointed straight at them.

  Chapter Twenty

  The closer she and Stefano got to the hotel, the more fight-or-flight nausea roiled Megan’s stomach.

  “Smile and wave goodbye as if we’re friends out for a Sunday afternoon stroll, then go inside,” Stefano instructed as they rounded a stand of palm trees and low tropical plants bordering the hotel. He’d replaced his sunglasses and pulled the brim of his hat a little lower, but his voice sounded as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I’ll be at your suite in a few minutes.”

  She did as he asked, then opened a side door and entered the air-conditioned hallway leading to the lobby. Only when the heavy glass door was firmly closed behind her did she dare turn and look. The man with the camera was nowhere in sight. Neither was Stefano.

  Adrenaline pumped through her system double-time as she leaned against the cool interior wall. How could she be so stupid as to take a risk like that? The mystery man could have been a tourist or seaside bird-watcher. But more and more, she feared a member of the paparazzi finally recognized Stefano. If so, what had he photographed?

  She closed her eyes and flexed her fingers in a quick effort to clear her brain. Only time would tell what images the man captured and where they’d appear. There was absolutely nothing she could do about it now.

  Straightening her shoulders, she made her way down the hall and entered the expansive lobby, nodding to members of the staff and smiling at guests gathered in the rotunda area. Everything appeared normal. The bartender in the corner lounge was engaged in an animated conversation about soccer, bellboys whisked luggage trolleys to waiting guests, and the concierge scoured a book of restaurant menus for a young couple. Two children dodged in and out of the velvet rope that sectioned off the check-in area as their parents picked up room keys.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Hallberg?”

  Megan spun to see a young woman wearing a desk clerk’s uniform cross the lobby toward her. “Yes. It’s Cristina, right?”

  “Yes.” She’d only been working at the hotel a week and appeared pleased to be recognized. “Santi stopped by the desk about two hours ago and asked if I’d seen you. Did he find you?”

  Strange for him to seek her out on a weekend. Unless there was a last-minute snag with the dining arrangements for a weekend event, he wouldn’t. “No, I’ve been away. Did he say what it was about?”

  “Only that if I saw you, I should tell you that he’s looking for you.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “He did seem preoccupied, but I couldn’t say why.”

  “Thank you, Cristina. I’ll call him in a few minutes.”

  “All right. Oh, and Ms. Hallberg? Great dress.”

  Unwilling to linger in the lobby, Megan thanked Cristina for the compliment, then took the elevator up to her floor. Within seconds of keying into her suite, a light knock came at the door. She opened it to admit Stefano.

  “Well,” she said once they were in her entry hall with the door closed. “That couldn’t have been good.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t recognize the guy.” He took off his sunglasses and ball cap and scrubbed a hand over his head, absently fixing the dark hair his hat had mussed. “I’m able to identify most of the photographers who are assigned to cover my family. He might’ve been a tourist snapping photos of the beachfront buildings.”

  “With that camera?”

  “Unlikely,” he admitted as they made their way toward the living area. “But I find a healthy dose of optimism the best way to handle these incidents.”

  “I suppose.” She wanted to share Stefano’s confidence, but her words sounded hollow. Another paparazzi photo of Stefano wouldn’t affect his day-to-day life. To her, it could change everything.

  He set his hat and sunglasses on the kitchen counter, then stepped toward her to take both her hands in his. His skin still held the warmth of the afternoon sun. “Optimism aside, here are the facts: He wasn’t on my flight yesterday morning, nor was he at the park today. Neither of us noticed him when we were sitting on the bench looking out at the beach. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  Reassurance filled his voice as he continued, “That means Anna was long gone by the time he starting taking pictures. On top of that, I don’t look like myself and the bench was partially shaded, so even with that lens, photographs taken from that distance will leave room for doubt. So if it was a paparazzo, and if his photos are published, I’ll ignore them. No confirmation or denial from the palace means that they weren’t worth comment, which means most people won’t believe the man in the photo is me. It will end up being another celebrity tidbit that disappears into the ether.”

  She flexed her fingers in Stefano’s as she studied his face, taking in the expressive black-ringed green eyes with tiny crinkles at the corners, the high, tanned cheekbones, and the firm line of his jaw. He was so strong, so sure, that she wanted to believe him. But how could anyone not see that the gorgeous, charismatic man before her was Stefano Barrali? If that lens was half as powerful as she suspected, someone who might not recognize him in passing on the street would look at the photos and say, wow, Prince Stefano looks different with the stubble. Not, no way that’s the prince.

  As he’d pointed out to her more than once, he wasn’t recognized on the street because no one expected to see him, especially in casual dress. A tabloid photo trumpeting his name was an entirely different matter.

  If she was snapped kissing the prince and publicly identified, what would it do to her career? To Anna?

  Stefano grimaced at her worried expression.

  “You’re used to this,” she countered. “I’m not. As much as I knew this was inevitable, I can’t help worrying. I thought I’d have more time before having to deal with anything like this.”

  “I understand. In fact, I’d be surprised if you didn’t worry. But I told you that I’d do everything in my power to ensure you and Anna aren’t hurt. And I keep my promises.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to the tips of her fingers one by one. “Speaking of which, we were in the middle of an important conversation when we were interrupted. I was trying to convince you of…something.” He maintained eye contact as he moved his mouth to her wrist, a barely-banked fire lurking in his heavy-lidded gaze. “The car service won’t be here for an hour, which gives us plenty of time to discuss my proposal. Ask me anything you want.”

  “Anything?” Do you love me?

  “Anything. I want you to trust me.” He grinned. “Though a single word from you could end the discussion so we can move on to other activities, if you prefer.”

  Yes.

  The word popped into her head unbidden. She’d put off giving him a definitive answer for weeks now, unwilling to repeat her original response of, “I can’t imagine an answer other than no” precisely because she could imagine it. She’d hoped some magic moment would push her one way or the other. The idea of marriage to Stefano seemed so monumental. Larger than the two of them. Yet deep in her soul, she knew she didn’t belong with anyone else and never would. Fate, kismet, whatever it was that led him back to her after so many years, being with Stefano felt amazing both then and now. No other man stirred her this way, and though he didn’t say the words she longed to hear, she
suspected he felt the same about her.

  But could it last?

  It struck her then that that was why she’d procrastinated. She’d worried Stefano’s visits would stop once they became inconvenient. He’d lose interest in her or in making them a true family. Real life in Sarcaccia would cause his enthusiasm for weekend trips to wane.

  She’d wanted him to prove himself. After all her years alone, she didn’t want risk being hurt. But would she hurt herself more by not taking a risk? If nothing else, being followed on the beach should teach her one thing: She couldn’t live in limbo forever.

  “Your brain is working too hard,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and melding his body to hers.

  That pulled a laugh from her. “I was thinking that these last few weekends have been wonderful.”

  “I told you we could make this work.” Before she could argue with whether make it work was the proper standard for considering marriage, his gaze softened. “I know we’re not exactly living in the real world. I can’t hide under a baseball hat all the time and you can’t hide our relationship from your coworkers, given that you live where you work. But what’s important is that we make this work between us. You and me. If that happens, the rest will fall into place. I believe that with all my heart.”

  With that simple word, us, he addressed one of her biggest fears. Perhaps he did want her for her, and for what the two of them could be together, rather than because she was the mother of his child.

  A plaintive beep sounded from one of the kitchen stools, where she’d dropped her handbag after returning from the beach. She ignored it and smoothed her hand over the front of Stefano’s shirt, feeling the firm muscle and strong heartbeat beneath her fingertips.